


Take Me or Leave Me

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-14
Updated: 2005-11-14
Packaged: 2019-01-19 23:11:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12420207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: “I am so sick of James Bloody Potter. Since third year, my life has been incomprehensibly linked to his, and I am sick of it. It’s always Lily and James this, and Lily and James that. Things are going to change this year; we’re entering a new era — and even if it bloody kills me, I will make it ...





	Take Me or Leave Me

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

**Chapter One: A New Era**

_It won't work_  
I look before I leap  
I love margins and discipline  
I make lists in my sleep, baby  
What's my sin?  
Never quit; I follow through  
I hate mess, but I love you  
What to do with my impromptu baby?  
So be wise 'cause this girl satisfies  
You got a prize, but don't compromise  
You're one lucky baby 

_Joanne: Take me for what I am_  
Maureen: A control freak  
Joanne: Who I was meant to be  
Maureen: A snob-- yet over-attentive  
Joanne: And if you give a damn  
Maureen: A lovable droll geek  
Joanne: Take me baby or leave me  
Maureen: An anal-retentave 

\--Take Me or Leave Me, _Rent_

\--

“Oy! Evans! Over here!”�

Lily Evans whipped around her scarlet head, searching vainly for the source of the animated voice calling out her surname. Platform nine and three quarters of King’s Cross Station was crowded with parents and students– the former group weepy and hovering; the latter excited and impatient– all preparing for the imminent start of term at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Lily smiled inwardly as she took in the shining, anticipatory faces of what were obviously anxious first-years and smiled and waved in acknowledgement when older students called out brief greetings in passing. It was hard to believe this would be her last journey ever to Hogwarts aboard the bright-red steam engine appropriately dubbed the Hogwarts Express, but that was exactly what it was, much to Lily’s contradictory excitement and regret. Lily was at long last entering her seventh and final year at Hogwarts; by this time next year she’d be an adult witch with an adult job and adult responsibilities.

It was surreal, to say the least.

“LILY! HEY! LILY EVANS!”�

Lily watched bemusedly as Esther Cohen, a fellow seventh-year Gryffindor and one of Lily’s closest friends, came barreling towards her, messy and tangled brown curls bouncing as she pushed various students and parents aside in her quest to reach her friend.

“I’ve been trying to make my way through this crowd for ages!”� Esther said breathlessly, pulling Lily into a tight hug, blissfully oblivious to Lily’s subsequent gasps for air. “I was calling your name, didn’t you hear me? I’ve already got us a compartment; is this all of your luggage? Here, I’ll grab Musetta’s cage, you take your trunk. Let’s go, before some ickle first-years try to steal our compartment.”�

She said all of this very quickly and was tugging Lily toward the train before the redhead could open her mouth to respond.

“Slow down,”� Lily said with wide and merry eyes and an indulgent smile. “How about we start out with ‘Hey, Lily, how was your summer?’ or ‘Hey, Lily, it’s nice to see you after two months of almost no communication or contact,’ or even ‘Hey, Lily, I heard you got Head Girl, congratulations.’”�

“You got Head Girl? Lily!”� Esther whooped gleefully, punching Lily on the arm with a bit more gusto than necessary as they continued to make their way onto the crowded train and toward their compartment. “I _hadn’t_ heard, actually; you know I was in Israel all summer. Who’s Head Boy?”�

“Now _I_ haven’t heard that,”� Lily mused thoughtfully, hoisting her trunk onto a luggage rack as they entered a compartment and sinking into one of the worn velvet seats she’d come to know and love after twelve biannual journeys aboard the comfortingly reliable train. “It’s usually your job to find out that kind of stuff. You’re acting president of the Official Hogwarts Inter-House Gossip Mill, after all. Or did you finally relinquish the title?”�

“Har har,”� Esther replied with a roll of her dark brown eyes, but a wittier retort was put on hold by the arrival of two other seventh-year Gryffindor girls, who appeared to be in the midst of a heated dispute of seemingly epic proportions.

“What you don’t seem to comprehend, Eleanor, is that eating lobster is an extremely refined and sophisticated art form,”� Sophie McPherson was explaining patiently, both hands gesturing elaborately as she spoke, her trunk levitating serenely next to her. “It’s a battle of wills. You don’t go about eating lobster like you would a platter of fish and chips. The lobster is your equal, Elle, and as such, you must acknowledge him — or her — as a worthy competitor.”�

Eleanor Marchbanks raised one refined hand to her forehead in a gesture of exasperation, shoving her trunk ahead of her by shunting it violently and repeatedly with her shins. “You are never coming out to lunch with my family _ever_ again, Sophie,”� she asserted firmly, bending over to heave her trunk next to Lily’s on the luggage rack. “You spent the entire meal _talking_ to your food. That’s not normal — especially doing it in front of almost every higher-up at the Ministry. Mother was mortified. I mean, really — referring to your lobster as a fellow samurai was not in good taste.”�

“Oh, please,”� Sophie scoffed impatiently. “Who cares about your mother; your grandfather adored me. And I don’t care if he _is_ the former Minister of Magic — that man knows how to party.”�

Esther, who, like Lily, had been watching the argument unfold with amusement, now chortled in delight from where she was perched next to the window, causing both Eleanor and Sophie to table their argument (only temporarily, of course) and greet their two other roommates. The compartment erupted in a brief explosion of girlish chatter for the next several minutes, and Lily basked in the sensation of warmth and happiness she felt at having her three best friends together with her for the first time in two months.

“Congratulations on Head Girl, Lily,”� Eleanor said finally, when everyone had stopped speaking at once, dropping Lily a wink and plopping down into the seat across from hers. “Sophie told me she was with you when you got the letter.”�

“What Sophie probably _didn’t_ tell you,”� Lily elaborated dryly, “is that she opened the letter before I even knew it had come and proceeded to hide my badge under the couch cushions for a solid two hours afterwards.”�

Esther and Eleanor turned their heads toward Sophie expectantly, perhaps expecting an abashed apology, but the girl in question simply shrugged her shoulders and smiled placidly. “You should have seen her,”� she recalled blissfully, casting her eyes heavenward in her apparent rapture at the memory. “I think I almost gave her a coronary; she ripped the envelope to shreds, crawled all over the ground searching desperately — frantically — hysterically — for that worthless yet shiny symbol of power — it was a beautiful sight.”�

“I’m sure it was,”� Lily rejoined with an exaggerated scowl before standing abruptly and smoothing out her skirt. “And as much I’d love to sit here and reminisce in such a poetic fashion, I’ve got a Head Boy to meet and a prefect meeting to run. I’ll see you juvenile delinquents later.”�

“Don’t worry, Lils,”� Sophie called to Lily’s quickly retreating back, “I’ll wait until you’re back before I share the infamous Petunia and the Glass Egg story.”�

“It was crystal, not glass,”� Lily shouted back in final parting, not bothering to turn around, shaking her head in amusement at Sophie’s customary antics.

Sophie, a Muggle-born witch like Lily, was Lily’s closest and dearest friend at Hogwarts. They’d bonded almost instantly as first-years on their first train ride to the castle. Both scared witless and both trying valiantly to pretend they were cool as cucumbers, they’d spent the entire journey poring over Lily’s copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ , arguing heatedly over which house they thought the worst to be sorted into. (Lily had argued Slytherin seemed by far the most shameful; Sophie had upheld that Hufflepuff appeared to play host to droves of dithering idiots.) Their subsequent sorting into Gryffindor had cemented their friendship, and they’d played the part of dynamic duo ever since.

Lily made her way to the last compartment on the train quickly, eager to meet her fellow Head and get the brief prefect meeting underway so she could return to her friends. Upon reaching the closed compartment door, she paused, confused, unable to account for the loud exclamations and raucous laughter that seemed to be emanating from within. She frowned, mildly annoyed. Everyone knew that the last compartment on the train was reserved for the Heads; perhaps some over-excited first-years had unwittingly stumbled inside?

She sighed with barely suppressed impatience before sliding open the door, prepared to aid the first-years in finding another unoccupied compartment aboard the over-crowded train. What met her eyes upon peering inside, however, caused them to narrow immediately in distaste. It just figured that _they_ would have the gall to commandeer the Head Boy and Girl compartment. _They_ were always searching for new and infinitely unoriginal ways to flout authority.

“Get out,”� she barked by way of greeting, her previous good mood having evaporated completely at the sight of that unmistakable messy black hair and those infuriating laughing hazel eyes behind those misleadingly dorky wire-rimmed glasses.

It was James Potter, of course, and his incorrigible (and ever present) motley crew, and Lily suddenly remembered why returning to Hogwarts had always seemed such a doubled-edged sword. She escaped her insufferable sister, Petunia, only to be accosted almost immediately by James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew — the unsavory male counterparts to the Gryffindor seventh-year girls.

“Lovely to see you, too, Evans,”� Potter replied with his characteristic easy grin. “You’re looking tanned and well-rested, I must say. Nice summer?”�

“It was Potter-free, so, yes, actually, it had its moments. Now get out,”� Lily repeated waspishly. “Even you, Potter, in all your infinite doltishness, know this compartment is reserved for Head Boy and Girl.”�

“A whole five and a half seconds before the first real insult; if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re growing soft in your old age,”� James replied pleasantly, quite unruffled by Lily’s customary scowl and less than cordial tone.

“Stuff it, Potter. I’ve got a Head Boy to find and a meeting to run. I don’t have time to trade witty — on my part, at least — and demeaning insults with you.”�

“Ah, but Evans,”� — and here James’ smile grew even wider and (Lily thought) even more self-congratulatory, if that was at all possible — “I believe I can help you on both counts.”�

Lily’s green eyes narrowed once more, but she didn’t bother opening her mouth and inviting James to continue, knowing full well he would anyway, regardless of any encouragement (or lack thereof) displayed on her part. Next to James, on either side, Remus, Sirius, and Peter were doing their best to suppress grins of obvious amusement and enjoyment. Sirius, in fact, looked positively diabolical; Remus’ smile was one of wry and sardonic appreciation; and Peter was issuing forth sporadic nervous titters, glancing back and forth between Lily and James as though he were watching a particularly entertaining tennis match.

Just as she had expected, James took Lily’s silence as invitation to continue. “Don’t you want to know _how_ I can help you, Evans? Or are you chocking it up to my natural intellect?”�

“No on both counts,”� Lily responded promptly. “But out with it, Potter. What are you so keen to tell me that it has you tripping all over yourself in toddler-esque excitement, looking almost ready to wet yourself?”�

This set Remus, Peter, and Sirius into fits of rather girlish laughter, but James merely continued smiling and brought his hands forward to clasp them before him in obvious joyous anticipation, absently shrugging off Sirius’ hand, which Sirius had rested upon James’ shoulder in an effort to support himself during his laughing fit.

Lily rolled her eyes impatiently. James Potter had an uncanny flair for dramatics; it was shocking he wasn’t looking into a career in theatre after graduation from Hogwarts. Unless prodded incessantly, it could take him well over an hour to get a point across in simple conversation. She glanced at her watch, not bothering to hide her irritation at Potter’s antics. The prefects would be arriving in less than five minutes. She needed to get Potter and his cronies out before then, or her first meeting as acting Head Girl would end in complete and utter chaos; Lily had no doubt the girls would spend the duration of the meeting preening and fluttering their eyelashes at the self-proclaimed “Marauders”� while the boys engaged in a senseless shouting match regarding Quidditch tactics and broomsticks.

She shuddered at the very thought.

Finally, though, James seemed to deem it appropriate to speak.

“What would you say, Evans,”� he bean slowly, “if I were to tell you that the Head Boy you seek so eagerly is none other than a roguishly handsome, exceptionally charming, incomparably brilliant, black-haired, bespectacled fellow Gryffindor?”�

For a split second and for perhaps the first time in her life, Lily Evans was at a loss for words. She regained her composure quickly, however, unwilling to give James the satisfaction of seeing her shaken and wordless and responded with a calm and collected, “I would be surprised and confused, as I can think of no seventh-year Gryffindor boy matching that description.”�

Unfortunately, it was then that James dug a hand into his trouser pocket, retrieving a shining metallic object that Lily recognized all too well. She experienced a moment of suspended disbelief as her eyes widened to an impossible degree and her tanned complexion paled to a worrying shade of ghost-white, causing her scattered freckles to stand out in sharp contrast.

It wasn’t possible. It simply wasn’t conceivable. There was no way in hell Dumbledore would make that insufferable, immature, irresponsible prat Head Boy. It defied all logic.

Potter’s smile, however, told her otherwise.

“Miss Evans,”� he said with great ceremony, “say hello to your partner in crime for the 1976-1977 school year. May we make merry while making life miserable for our fellow peers. Cheers. Hey, I rhymed,”� he concluded in delight, obviously quite pleased with himself. “Speaking of which, I’ve already got some great ideas in the works to liven up the prefect meetings — Remus hints that they’re a bit dull — and I think you’re really going to like them. My first proposal: Iambic pentameter…. We conduct all meetings employing the literary device of iambic pentameter! And we can have party fouls for anyone who messes up! It’ll be brilliant!”� 

Lily knew she should feel angry. She kept waiting for it — the urge to insist that he was lying — the urge to insist that this was some halfcocked scheme the Marauders had cooked up during their holiday — the urge to slap him silly as she had done so often in the past — but it never came.

Instead, she was surprised to find she felt only a desolate, abject sense of miserable dejection. Why was it that everything came so easy to James Potter? Why was it that he had everything in life handed to him on a silver platter? Did nothing in his life require effort? And how the hell did he know what iambic pentameter was?

As far as Lily knew, he never studied or so much as opened a book, yet he was still vying with Lily for first in their class; he was by far the most talented Quidditch player Hogwarts had seen in years, yet he managed to make flying look as effortless and easy as tying one’s shoes; he committed transgression after transgression in an inexplicable, personal campaign to break every rule at Hogwarts, yet he was still a favorite among teachers; he was cocky, arrogant, and self-absorbed, yet he had hoards of giggling females falling all over themselves to become the next Mrs. James Potter; and now he had this — he was Head Boy, without having done anything — as far as Lily knew — to prove himself worthy of the position.

It wasn’t fair that _she_ had to work so hard for things that came almost naturally to James.

The look of utter desolation on Lily’s face must have been unnerving because the self-assured smile James had been boasting since Lily had walked through the compartment door faded very suddenly, and his formerly erect posture became rather slumped and twitchy. Remus, Sirius, and Peter were peering at Lily with expressions of cautious curiosity plastered on their faces, as though she were an active bomb that could unexpectedly detonate at any moment.

“Look,”� James said finally, when it became apparent that Lily had been rendered temporarily speechless, “I’m as shocked as you are. Really — I am. When I got the letter, I thought it was some lame joke Padfoot had concocted because his summertime boredom had reached an all-time low. But I’ll try not to be too glib about this whole Head business if you try not to be too serious and domineering. Is it a deal?”�

Serious and domineering? Was this his attempt at getting on her good side? Lily closed her eyes and found herself counting to ten, a method that had never worked well for her in the past — at least not where Potter was concerned.

“I am _not_ serious and domineering.”�

Next to James, Sirius snorted, earning him a swift elbow in the ribs from his friend.

“No one said you were serious and domineering, Evans,”� James placated soothingly, prompting more snorting and sniggering from the general vicinity where Remus, Sirius, and Peter stood aligned in synchronicity with James.

Lily raised both hands to her now-flushed face and shook her head in disbelief several times. She was just about to point out that James had, in fact, called her serious and domineering when the sound of a new voice _ahem_ -ing nervously behind her caused her to turn around, a scarily cross expression on her face at the ill-timed interruption.

She found herself staring into the face of a girl with mousy brown hair and a timid smile, and for a moment Lily was struck dumb, at a loss for why this unfamiliar girl would be seeking her out.

“Can I help you?”� Lily asked, sounding far more snooty and unfriendly than she had intended.

This was what Potter always did to her. He disrupted her inner equilibrium and left her exasperatingly unsettled and flushed.

“Isn’t this where the prefect meeting is being held?”� the girl asked uncertainly, her brow furrowed worriedly, a faintly pink blush creeping up her cheeks. “I’m Myra Marquez, a Ravenclaw fifth-year. Is this not where the prefects meet?”�

Before Lily could respond and assure her she had indeed found the right compartment, James stepped forward and ushered Myra inside, brushing Lily aside and causing her to stumble as he did so.

“You’ve found the right place,”� he told Myra as he led her into the compartment, and Lily was irritated to find the girl was turning an interesting shade of crimson at being in such close proximity to James. “I’m James Potter,”� James continued merrily, “and this is Lily Evans, my charming business associate and your Head Girl. Have a seat; Sirius will be more than happy to make room for you.”�

Lily watched in disgust as Sirius leered invitingly, and Myra blushed more profusely. It was disgusting, really.

“No way,”� Lily intervened at last, regaining at least some sense of composure. “It’s bad enough having you here, Potter. I want Black and Pettigrew out. They’re not prefects, and they’re not staying.”�

Potter shrugged, unperturbed, but Sirius glared daggers at Lily before muttering something unintelligible to Peter and sloping out of the compartment with Pettigrew in tow. Apparently the thought of being separated from Potter for a mere fifteen minutes was almost more than Black could bear, Lily thought nastily, watching absently as the compartment began to fill with prefects from all four houses.

When it appeared everyone had arrived, Lily did a mental head-count before plastering a polite smile on her face, clearing her throat, and saying, “Hello, everyone. I’m Lily Evans–”�

“–and I’m James Potter–”�

Excited rustling and whispering followed this unnecessary proclamation.

“–and we’ll be your Head Girl and Boy this year,”� Lily continued, choosing to ignore the muffled symphony of sound James’ presence had triggered. “Congratulations to those of you who are new to the position–”�

“Wackiness will ensue,”� James interrupted.

“–and welcome back to those of you who are returning prefects–”�

“You all must be so proud,”� James beamed.

Lily closed her eyes briefly before resuming her prepared speech. “Today’s meeting will consist only of handing out current passwords and informing you that you’ll all be taking turns patrolling the corridor throughout the train ride.”�

Scattered grumbling and murmured complaints followed this statement, and Lily took a deep breath before continuing. “You don’t have to patrol the whole time; just walk up and down the aisle every once in a while to make sure there’s not a clueless first-year poking his own eye out with his wand or an older student hexing or jinxing someone from another house. In other words,”� Lily said, glancing at James, “it might be easiest just to stick close to Potter and make sure he doesn’t wind up hurting himself or others. Actually,”� she paused, “I suppose it’s all right if he hurts himself.”�

Lily’s crack at James was met with good-natured laughter, and Lily was relieved to find herself relaxing and feeling more at ease.

Next to her, James reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of crumpled and stained parchment. “All right, soldiers,”� he began in a ridiculously over-the-top authoritative voice, “I’ve got your passwords right here. Let’s have one sixth-year from each house come up and get them so we can disperse — in an orderly fashion, of course — and go have some fun.”�

Once the passwords had been issued and the last of the prefects had shuffled out, Lily, James, and Remus stood in rare and awkward silence.

“Well, that didn’t go too badly,”� Remus supplied finally, smiling tentatively at Lily, as though afraid she might breathe fire at him.

“No,”� Lily conceded grudgingly, “I’ll confess I was expecting much worse.”�

James seemed to take heart at this and grinned toothily at Lily with his pearly white, impossibly straight teeth. “What fire is in my ears? Can this be true? Are you at long last confessing that we make an undeniably fantastic team, in matters both business and personal? Together we stand; united we fall?”�

“Don’t flatter yourself, Potter,”� Lily said scornfully, and she swept from the compartment without another word.

James watched her go, a look of thoughtful contemplation on his usually untroubled face. “I sense we are entering a new era, Moony,”� he predicted wisely, turning to face his werewolf friend. “I sense this just might be the year that I make some headway with Evans — pardon the unintentional pun.”�

Remus shook his head and smiled fondly at his clueless friend. “Don’t flatter yourself, Potter,”� he said sensibly, slapping the Head Boy on the back and steering a charmingly daft James Potter into the corridor in search of Sirius and Peter.

\--

“I’m so sorry, Lily,”� Esther offered consolingly as soon as Lily reentered the compartment Sophie, Esther, and Eleanor were occupying. “We heard the bad news.”�

Lily took a moment to marvel inwardly at Esther’s uncanny ability to track down and ascertain the most interesting of Hogwarts gossip in record timing before asking with a tired sigh, “Who told you?”�

“We ran into Sirius and Peter,”� Sophie offered with a sympathetic smile. “Sirius seemed less than happy with the news, to be honest.”�

“Well, of course,”� Eleanor said practically, shaking her strawberry blonde head and patting the seat next to her as invitation for Lily to sit down. “This is going to change the Marauders forever. James is going to have to assume at least some semblance of responsibility. Of course Sirius is devastated.”�

“I wonder what possessed Dumbledore to make James Potter Head Boy, anyway,”� Sophie mused, staring absently out the window at the wild English countryside. “We were all betting on Amos Diggory, remember?”�

Lily bit her lower lip, a nervous habit she’d picked up sometime in third year — probably around the time James Potter had started asking her out with increasing regularity and stylistic flair, come to think of it.

It was funny how so much of her life seemed to revolve around a boy she wanted less than nothing to do with. It was ridiculous, really.

With that in mind, she ceased biting her lip and said with sudden vehemence, “I don’t know why Dumbledore made Potter Head Boy, and frankly, I don’t care.”� She stared at her friends’ blankly surprised faces and emitted a grunt of frustration. “I am so _sick_ of James Bloody Potter. Since third year, my life has been inextricably and incomprehensibly linked to his, and I am _sick_ of it. It’s always Lily and James _this_ , and Lily and James _that_. Things are going to change this year, girls; we’re entering a new era — and even if it bloody kills me, I will make it a Potter-free one.”�

Her outburst completed, Lily lapsed into dignified silence, ignoring the expressions of shock on her friends’ faces, knowing full well she’d almost sent them into cardiac arrest with her unabashed and unexpected use of profanity; Lily Evans, of course, never swore.

Sophie was the first to speak.

“As much as I support the concept, Lils — and I do, really — don’t you think that’s going to be a little harder now that you’re Head Boy and Girl together?”� she asked cautiously.

Lily found herself biting her lip again in the face of such logic. “Well, maybe I can’t avoid him entirely, but I can at least avoid him and any mention of him for the rest of this train ride. So — let’s table the subject of James Potter indefinitely and think of something else to talk about. We’re four reasonably intelligent females; I’m sure we can think of _something_ more substantial than Potter to discuss.”�

And after a beat of weighted silence, that’s exactly what they did.

By the end of the train ride, Lily’s spirits were considerably lighter. She shouted a brief greeting in the general direction of Hagrid as she hopped off the train and fought her way toward the carriages waiting to take them to Hogwarts — and in Lily’s case, _home_.

The first sight of the castle after a summer away always sent Lily’s heart soaring. If she were perfectly honest with herself, summers back in Hertfordshire with the rest of the Evans’ family were fairly unmemorable and not very enjoyable — largely due to her older sister and longtime rival, Petunia.

It was hard to say when she and Petunia had stopped being sisters and started being archenemies. She supposed it must have been sometime around the arrival of that first fateful letter delivered by a Hogwarts owl. What should have been one of the happiest moments of Lily’s life had been somewhat hampered by Petunia’s blatant disgust and disrespect for Lily’s newfound ability. Since then, Lily had felt driven to prove to Petunia that her magic was a blessing rather than a curse — that it didn’t make her a freak, as Petunia so firmly believed. She’d thrown herself into her studies, inspired both by Petunia’s sneering face and the echoing taunts of “Mudblood”� she’d soon discovered would follow her wherever she went within the wizarding world.

It was enough to age anyone as proud as Lily a bit prematurely, and it was no wonder, really, that most of her peers found her slightly stuffy and over ambitious.

Returning to Hogwarts after two months in Petunia’s disagreeable company was marvelously comforting, and Lily found she was positively humming with excitement as she exited her carriage and entered the castle and Great Hall accompanied by her friends.

The Great Hall, Lily was pleased to see, was alit with hundreds of warm white candles, and the enchanted ceiling above sparkled clearly with glittering starlight.

“Home sweet home,”� Sophie said with a smile, sliding into a seat at the Gryffindor table and echoing Lily’s thoughts exactly.

“It’s bittersweet this time,”� Esther added. “You know?”�

“Yeah — it’s not a new era, Lily; it’s the end of an old one,”� Eleanor contributed sagely. “This is our last first day of school. I can’t believe it.”�

Further down the table, the Marauders were in the midst of an animated conversation regarding similar subject matter.

“We’ve got to go out with a bang,”� Sirius was insisting eagerly. “I don’t care if you and Moony have both joined the dark side, James; there are ways around that — so long as we’re not caught by Evans, McGonagall will be a breeze.”�

“Agreed,”� James said with a nod of his head. “Trouble is — Evans _always_ knows. Even when I haven’t done anything wrong, she knows I’ve done something wrong. It’s a lose-lose situation, and I want to make it out of this year alive.”�

“I think some measure of subtlety is required,”� Remus said thoughtfully, staring into his empty plate. “Nothing blatant — no hexing, no jinxing, no suddenly naked Snape.”�

“I can get on board with all three of those restrictions,”� Peter supplied with a shudder. “That whole naked Snape fiasco… that was a mistake.”�

“Well, you were supposed to look away,”� Sirius said with an exasperated eye roll. “Of course you’d be permanently scarred otherwise. I mean, really, Wormtail. Use some common sense.”�

“All right, all right,”� Remus intervened, ever the peace maker. “No naked Snape; I think we can all get on board with that. Unless there’s something you’ve been meaning to tell us, Prongs?”�

“Oh, damn,”� James said, deadpan. “I’ve been found out.”�

The remainder of the meal proceeded in a similar fashion, and the banter continued even after the boys had reached Gryffindor Tower and claimed their usual seats near the fireside.

“It’s so nice being a seventh-year,”� Sirius said, completely at peace. “We can do whatever we want; we can have whatever girl we want.”�

“You’ve always done whatever you’ve wanted and had whatever girl you’ve wanted,”� Remus pointed out.

“Oh, yeah,”� Sirius said with a grin. “I guess it’s just nice being me.”�

“Hear, hear,”� James replied lazily, his eyes half-closed behind his glasses.

“I need to find some place to practice the art of cunnilingus,”� Sirius continued, also lazily, staring thoughtfully into the flames of the fire.

It was perhaps very unfortunate that it was at that moment Lily Evans chose to pass by the group of boys on her way up to her dormitory.

“You are the epitome of all things vulgar and disgusting, Black,”� Lily commented as she marched past their poufs. “Why don’t you try visiting a nursing home and practicing there? I’m sure you’d be able to find an elderly witch more than willing to lend a — ahem — hand.”�

Remus and Peter guffawed appreciatively; Sirius looked torn between taking offense at Lily’s insult and shock at her rare attempt at humor; and James, suddenly no longer lethargic and sluggish, rose from his pouf and chased after Lily’s retreating back.

“Evans! Hey!”�

Lily made a rather childish face before turning around to acknowledge James’ presence.

“Not now, Potter,”� Lily said with her customary impatience regarding anything Potter-related. “And for the record — for the rest of the year — no, I will not go out with you.”�

“Yes _now_ , Evans,”� James said forcefully, walking toward Lily with a purposeful stride. “ _And for the record_ ,”� he said dangerously, “I wasn’t going to ask you out.”�

Lily crossed her arms and steeled herself inwardly, mentally preparing for battle. “Wonders never cease, then.”�

“Whether you like it or not, Evans,”� James continued, sounding not at all like the charming rake he usually fancied himself to be, “we’re going to be spending a lot of time together this year. We need to discuss when we’re going to schedule the next prefect’s meeting. If now’s not a good time for you, I’d be more than happy to reschedule according to your convenience. But it’s a chat we’re going to have to have eventually, and I figured your philosophy was always the sooner the better.”�

Struck speechless by James for perhaps the third time that day, Lily settled for a mute nod before finding her voice and saying, “We can discuss it over breakfast tomorrow. I need a decent night’s sleep before entering into actual intelligent conversation with you, Potter.”�

She made to leave, but before she had gotten very far, James’ voice intruded upon her peace of mind once more.

“Also for the record, Evans,”� he was saying, his serious tone having evaporated to be replaced once more by one cocky and far more familiar, “you should really stop biting your lip like that. It’s bloody annoying.”�

At that moment, Lily knew both of them couldn’t possibly make it out of the year alive.


End file.
